What's In It For Me?
When being a light for another is worth all that comes with the journey
“What’s in it for me?”
In a world gone cold, it’s a natural question.
Here before me, a vessel. Beautiful in its construction, enlightening in its potential. Intuitive, inquisitive, and curious.
Scarred. Scared. Broken. In this state, you cry for a way out, longing for what lies beyond the depths of your desires. It’s heartbreaking, frustrating, and baffling all at once.
I hear every call for help, both overt and subtle. I am patient. I am measured. I am reason.
It’s a juxtaposition to what churns within my heart and my soul. I think of the late hours of the night, that night, where our fingers burnt holes in our phones, peeking into the unknown with every exchange and wondering what a taste of forbidden fruit would do. I think of the hours and hours of curious exchanges that slowly, and despite what we swore would not be the case, intentionally revealed the case for compatibility.
The magnetism of likeminded, kindred spirits is unrefusable and unstoppable. To see your darkness slowly expose itself to light was the best part of each day. You were becoming my beautiful reward, my gift for climbing past my own hurdles and seeking something more. And I was going to do everything I could, subtle or overt, to help you past yours.
Because that’s what we do in that world gone cold. We show those deprived of love that there are others there to offer it.
To love wholly. To love entirely. To love you for everything you are, and everything you wanted to be. To love those who you loved, and to love those who loved you.
Sometimes, we just need a reason to believe in order to get us to push forward through each day.
When our eyes finally met, there was never a doubt. Being your guidance was worth every bit of my being, and it was apparent we were worth taking the shot on.
This world is fucking scary, man. And in times of tribulation, there is only one way to face your fears: No retreat. No surrender.
I swore I never would.
But one night, you did retreat. One night, you surrendered. And not long after, you were gone for good.
You were on to whatever was next. The broken vessel was now repaired, at least, enough, and no longer would the light that lit the way be needed or wanted.
“What was in it for me?” I kept asking myself. “Why did I go to this length, just to hurt like this?” I don’t like who that made me.
It’s a type of hurt that I will carry with me forever, even through my good days and the highlights of life. I had lost the rain. It was simply so tangible, real, and there for the taking, and the exertion of your whole emotional self to help someone else see that there can be more to the future they once felt resigned to is exhausting.
Yet whenever I have found myself venturing into that headspace, I remind myself that something is far more important than what was in it for me.
It’s what was in it for you.
A new lease on life. A renewed outlook on the world. An appreciation for your authenticity. An understanding of what it means to be loved for who you are, and all that you are.
Above all else, your safety. To this day, the thing I hope above all else is that you are okay.
And if you are, then what a gift that is. We’re never perfect. But we’re getting there, and I am so proud of you.
I don’t know if I will ever again hear your voice or read your words. I would welcome it, though I have come to terms with the fact that I may never.
But should the ether ever carry these thoughts to your eyes, please know this: as long as your new you is your best you, then all of it was worth it for me.
You just needed to see that there is some good in this world. Now, you are proof that it was worth fighting for.